nine2five 10 Funhouse
by Marc Vun Kannon
Summary: Charah, as seen through the distorting mirrors of Morgan, standing in for Chuck, and Carina, trying not to stand in for Sarah.
1. The Merry-Go-Round

**A/N** Morgan is sensitive, Carina is vulnerable. Live with it.

* * *

"_The killer's escaped and Stampede has his phone."_

"_It's not aliases you're changing now, it's you."_

"_Tell me your real name, _right now_."_

"_Only in his pain is he useful to us."_

* * *

Morgan Grimes said good night to all the other employees at the restaurant he managed-well, assistant managed-which strangely enough didn't involve nearly as much work as assistant managing a Buy More did. Morgan thought he had mad work avoidance skills, but the El Segundo School of Finance and Big Mike's own natural talent put him to shame. _I wonder who he's exploiting now._

Certainly not Jeff and/or Lester. What those two lacked in work avoidance skills they made up for with a lack of any skills at all. He was so glad that government plane hadn't crashed anywhere near LA, 'cause he would sure have ended up running the Buy More again. He could practically feel their combined evil orbit of loser-dom trying to suck him in as they passed overhead.

Morgan grinned and shook his head as he locked the grate that covered the door. Look at him now, who'd believe it? A night of work, more of a night of COD, a morning of breakfast, and a whole glorious day to laze in bed. How responsible could you get?

It had to be Chuck's doing, somehow, but he couldn't see how. He shook his head again, in amazement , not amusement. His best friend, a janitor! To give up the Nerd Herd and follow his girl to DC, just because the Orange Orange transferred her. _Wow!_ That's love. Anna was just so wrong about Sarah, she's obviously very career-minded to just pick up and move like that.

He stood up, stepped back, and ran into somebody.

"Hey!"

He spun. "Sorry, sorry!" Embarrassed, he looked up and down the street, but no one was there. He'd managed to step on the toes of the only pedestrian in sight.

_Typical._

"Watch it, short stuff," she slurred. "Or I'll kick your…" she wavered a bit "…kick your…"

"Ass?" he said helpfully.

She curled her tall slender body around his for a look. "No thanks, hardly looks like you got enough for yourself." She giggled.

"Carina?"

"Martin?"

"Morgan."

"That's what I said. What'n'ell are you doing here? I thought you were in DC."

"We're in DC."

"Course we are." Her beautiful face twisted in disgust. "Where'd you think we'd be, out in the friggin' _sticks_ somewhere? Do I look like I should be out in the sticks?"

"Are you kidding? A hot ba–uh , beautiful woman, uh…" Drunk_ beautiful woman._ Obviously drunk and completely alone. Oh god, what do I—No. Not me. What Would _Chuck_ Do? "You know what, wherever you are, you're always the most beautiful woman around, but an empty street really doesn't suit you."

She tossed her head back, ran her fingers through her hair. "And what place would suit me?" _Your place or mine?_

Not even tempted. "Right now, I'm thinking a coffee bar."

Both her brows rose in surprise. "Martin, are you trying to get me sober?"

He sighed. "It sure looks that way."

She smiled, without her normal air of calculation. "You're sweet, and a gentleman. I like you. Where are we going?"

He gave her a sharp look. "You're not really drunk, are you?"

"Not for lack of trying, no," she said sadly, ruffling his shorter hair. "But you're really a gentleman. It's very sexy."

* * *

Washington had lots of coffee shops, too many shady deals at odd hours for just one, and of course you had to have enough that the reporters couldn't cover them all. Which is to say that they had no problem finding one, although all the shadowy corners were full up.

"So this so-called best friend just throws you over for someone she's just met? That's rude."

Carina sipped her coffee, making a face. She didn't like bitterness. "I wouldn't say 'threw me over', exactly. She just told this Jill-come-lately something she should have told me first, that's all."

Morgan was outraged on her behalf. "That's _all_? That's everything! I've been a best friend since the sixth grade and let me tell you, best friends don't do things like that."

"Best friends get angry, it seems."

"You're damn right they do! You mess with my friends, you mess with _me_!"

Carina leaned in and kissed him hard.

H e gripped her hands and freed his face long enough to ask, "Carina! What are you doing?"

"I'm hoping your place is closer than mine because mine is just too damn far."

* * *

"Leader, I appear to have an overlap."

The voice from the speaker was distorted but understandable. "Explain."

"Surveillance of the second woman revealed a secret meeting with a task force's target, a man."

Distortion couldn't hide the ferocity."Task force targets are need to know, operative. They should be alerting me to your operation, not you to theirs. Send me his picture."

"Transmitting now. " The operator started to sweat. "I had reason to become suspicious, Leader."

Leader let the operative sweat until the image completed transmission. "I know this face. The task force we sent is either dead or in jail. I was led to believe that an NSA trainee had defeated the lot of them."

"He always lets others have the credit, it's his signature move."

"My point exactly. I will listen."

"The meeting took place on a city street, a seemingly random accidental encounter. It would have been believable had the street not been completely deserted at the time. After this meeting they went to a nearby coffee shop."

"A haven for clandestine affairs."

"Exactly. They were observed talking, then the woman attempted to kiss the man and they left together."

"She wanted to make it appear that he was seducing her?"

"Or she him."

"Clumsily done either way. Her Seduction School teachers would be ashamed. Where did they go?"

"We tracked them to a local area B&B, owned by a woman named Pendergast."

"The same woman that offers housing to all the–"

"The very one. Clearly this is his base of operations, hidden in plain sight, where he can go in and out all day with no one the wiser."

"Or bring in other agents for a prolonged debriefing. How terribly clever, both him and you. I will reactivate the Carmichael file. There will be a new task force and you will be in charge of it, operative."

_Score! _"Thank you, Leader."

"You will also send a full report of how you accessed task force files to Security, so they can make sure it will be harder next time. I expect great things from you. Do not fail me." The message terminated.

The operative started to sweat again.

* * *

Morgan wasn't exactly sleeping. He was just very, very relaxed, but the combination of grape soda and Red Bull that allowed him to fight off two tranq darts allowed him to fight off this. A slight motion of the woman sleeping next to him brought him completely awake. For a second he was afraid he'd overslept his duties as a breakfast chef and reached for his clock to check, but no, he had a bit of time yet to appreciate the warmth and comfort, even with an early start for that one woman who got promoted.

_Wow._

Once he thought he'd loved Anna. Only the ease with which he'd broken up with her told him he never had. So he knew now that he didn't love Carina either, but he liked her a lot, and Morgan would go a long way for the people he liked. Especially when they were so recently best-friend-less.

"I have to go," said Carina.

Even that little movement had woken her up. "No," said Morgan softly, unwilling to let this night end. "No you don't, I do. I work here in the morning, but you can stay. As long as you like."

Carina rolled out of bed and moved around the room stark naked, gathering up her clothes. "You may work here in the morning, but I work somewhere else entirely, and they don't really have a 'yesterday's clothes' policy."

"So I'm guessing you don't work at a Buy More."

She laughed as she rebriefed herself. "Don't quit your day job, Morgan, you'd make a terrible spy."

He sat up, just to watch her move, even if it was to cover herself up. "So would you. In case you missed it, I work nights."

She paused in the act of buttoning her pants. "And here I thought you enjoyed it. I may have to come back and make sure."

He threw her pillow at her. _Yes, please._ "That's not what I meant."

"Well," she said, giving him a sidelong glance, "If I'm alive tonight, maybe I will. But no promises."

He shook his head, still grateful for the last one. "I'm not asking for any."

She leaned on the bed and gave him a light kiss. "Which is why I might come back."

"What do you think you'll do about this so-called best friend of yours?"

For once, she looked at a loss. "I don't know."

He looked unhappy. "It's can't be easy. But I'll tell you what I would do…"

* * *

Chuck turned as he heard the doorknob rattle, sliding one of Sarah's knives from his waistband. If it was an Uzi-toting terrorist, or his wife for that matter, he'd really rather know it sooner than later. If it was his wife and he wasn't checking to see if it was an Uzi-toting terrorist she'd kick his ass.

Of course it was his wife, and he was checking, so his hind-quarters were safe for the nonce. "So, did she get off all right?"

She tossed her bag into a chair. "Safe and sound, on the plane and off the ground."

He grinned. "You're in a good mood."

"She was rhyming, all the way to the airport. Not sure why. Couldn't think of a rhyme for 'waffles', though, thank God." She shrugged. "But it sounded like she was happy, so why not."

"I think getting promoted, surviving an assassination attempt, and finding out that your new best friend really _would_ take a bullet for you are all perfectly valid reasons for happiness. And all in the same day, no less."

She plopped herself down on a stool. "Been there, done that. On the other hand, I'd kill for a cheese omelet."

Chuck lifted a plate to the counter. "Well, isn't today your lucky day…"

* * *

"Where is Agent Miller? Her report of last night's action hasn't yet crossed my desk." And they all knew just how much General Beckman loved reading Carina's version of events.

Sarah looked unhappy. "None of us knows, she just walked away and left the clean-up to us," she said, feeling like she was betraying her second-best friend, but you don't lie in official reports. "But I'm sure she'll be here, General."

Beckman looked something other than unhappy. "Your loyalty does you credit, Agent Carmichael, but 'just walking away' is not acceptable behavior for an agent on scene."

"I've known her for years, General, her best and perhaps her only friend, and last night the role she was playing required her to almost kill me."

Beckman nodded. "That can't have been easy, even for as loose a cannon as Agent Miller is known to be."

"She's not that loose, General. Something happened to her last night, and I'd like to get to the bottom of it, if I may."

"You may, Sarah. Her work yesterday was exceptional and has earned the benefit of your doubts, as well as my own. The Intersect Project has tolerated some pretty loose cannons already–" only Casey looked at Chuck's inset on their screens "–it can tolerate another, but try to tighten her as much as you are able. You seem to be good at that."

"I will, General."

"Good. Moving on–"

Another inset window opened. "Agent Miller reporting."

"Good morning, Agent Miller," said the General. "Agent Carmichael and I were just discussing your absence. I trust you are fully recovered from the events of last night. I understand they were more than a little stressful."

"Last night was hard on me, I will admit, but we each have our own ways of relieving a little stress, and I found the cure for what ailed me."

No one asked what she meant.

General Beckman's expression beat Switzerland in terms of neutrality. "Then I will leave it at that. I will be interested to see your interpretation of events last night, Agent Miller, as we are unable to understand why a major assassination operation would be mounted against a junior analyst."

"I…haven't really given the matter much thought, General."

"Keep it in mind as you compose your report, please. In the meantime I want Agent Carmichael and Colonel Casey to return to the scene of events and report their findings to the Intersect."

"You're benching me?"

"You benched yourself, Agent Miller. Consider that the next time you decide to go off the reservation for a little stress relief." Her window blinked out, as did Casey's.

Now Carina's face could twist into a grimace. "Way to have my back, Sarah."

Sarah was having none of it. "I had to deal with Mrs. Pendergast alone, Carina, you know what she's like when guests break things."

"So you just throw me to the Generals?"

Sarah sat back, refusing to accept that charge. "I didn't throw you anywhere. You have to stick around to file your report anyway."

Carina's anger had no place to go, so it curdled in place. "And then spend the rest of the day babysitting your geek!"

"He's my _nerd_!" said Sarah, stung. Carina knew better. "Get it right, or you and I are going to have some serious words!"

"Oh, we are, are we?" Carine spat back. "How about these 'serious words'? You are _fired_, Sarah. I'm firing you as my best friend!"

Her window went black.

* * *

**A/N2 **I counted six double entendres in there, don't think I got them all. I hope you laughed along with me.**  
**


	2. The Ferris Wheel

**A/N **There's very little of the Beard that I can use in this story, so I'm just going to hijack the plotline for my own fell designs. Mwa-ha-ha!**  
**

* * *

"_Martin, are you trying to get me sober?"_

"_You mess with my friends, you mess with _me_!"_

"_I'll tell you what I would do…"_

"_I'm firing you as my best friend!"_

* * *

Carina sat at her desk, staring at her screen, now blank. Somehow she could still see the shock that was starting to move across her once-best-friend's face before the screen took it away.

_Got your attention _now_, didn't I?_

Too late.

_No!_ It can't be too–

She raised her hand and almost, almost, hit the button to reconnect. But no. This was for Sarah's own good, and however hard it would be on her personally she had to see it through.

_Agents shouldn't fall in love._

* * *

"She did _what?_"

Not amused. Not even upset, just confused. "Fired me, can you believe it?"

"Oh, I could believe it all right, if it was Morgan." He could believe just about anything, if it was Morgan. It was about the only way he _could_ believe some things. 'Firing' a best friend sounded like something from Morgan's inner managerial self, a part of him that he struggled to keep buried, lest someone notice it and make him work.

"Morgan would fire _you?_" _No way._ Morgan would die before he would betray Chuck. How much would Chuck have to betray him first to deserve that?

Chuck nodded. "He documents every step of the friendship process. You're lucky he was in Hawaii when we got married, or he would have made you sign a contract before he would've allowed it."

She bared her teeth, but no one would have called it a smile. "If Morgan had gotten between me and that Justice with a silly piece of paper he would have been roadkill."

Chuck smiled at her ferocity, it was just too adorable not to. "It _is_ important to him, though, and I can guarantee you that at least a little part of him resents you for taking me away from him. All those conversations through the wall weren't for nothing."

Just the memory of that frustrating time boiled over. "I didn't take you away—!"

"I know you didn't, but come on, this is Morgan we're talking about here. He's so much about feelings, if we were in the Star Wars universe he'd be running the Jedi."

"Didn't they all get slaughtered?" A coup is a coup, comic book movie or not. She could relate to that.

He touched the tip of her nose. "Not my point, but yes they did."

She ran a finger lightly over the curve of his ear. "So what is your point, Captain Spock?"

Chuck winced, shaking his head slightly. "My point is, it doesn't have to make sense. In fact, with Morgan it's probably better that way. But he's been booted from the top of the Chuck's-best-friend pecking order and he can't be a hundred percent comfortable about it."

She drew her hands down his neck, tracing the collar of his shirt. No tie again, dammit. College casual may be his nerd comfort zone but she wouldn't mind a chance to paint her lily once in a while. "And his comfort is that important to you."

"Of course. He may not be my _best_ friend but he's still my friend. And among the male slightly-less-than-half of the population I think the 'best' still applies."

She sighed. "Well, as your new best friend I suppose that means I should do something about it." If only she knew what. Agents don't have best friends.

* * *

She called from the road, but his phone went to voice mail. "Hi Morgan, it's Sarah," she said, as if he wouldn't recognize her voice. "Call me when you get this, please, we have a lot to talk about." Short and sweet. _Maybe too short? _She hung up, amazed once again at how stupid she became talking to a machine.

* * *

"Inform Leader we have a contact."

* * *

"Good morning, Agent Shaw."

Shaw gave his usual nod to the broom-pushing Tough Guy. "Good morning, Chuck. How are you today?"

"I don't like it when Agent Walker's out."

Daniel Shaw paused, unsure what to make of that statement. Chuck was trusting him, talking about Agent Walker like that. He ought to be pleased. Is that what he was feeling, pleasure? Pride? For once he wished he knew how to smile. At least he could watch out for the poor kid while she was away.

"She's just at an incident site, Chuck. We had a little action last night, and they're looking for clues today to try to understand it better."

"She wasn't hurt."

"No, she wasn't. Someone was trying to hurt her friend Hannah, but we don't know why, since she's only an analyst and not a threat to anybody." Shaw noticed a strange look come over Chuck's face and stopped talking.

"Following the success of your operation against Nicos Vassilis it's only reasonable to suppose that the Ring would try to determine the quality of your allies. In such a scenario Hannah would probably seem to be the most vulnerable test subject. They achieve some measure of vengeance, diminish your resources, and can observe your response."

Shaw's normal lack of affect became even more pronounced than usual. "_What_ did you say?"

Chuck blinked and took a step back. "I didn't say anything, Agent Shaw."

"How did you do that, Chuck?" Shaw took a step forward, realizing his mistake only when Tough Guy's eyes started to flutter. The last time that had happened he'd woken up in Medical.

Tough Guy collapsed, a completely boneless fall that indicated that there was no one at home inside his head. Shaw barely caught him before he impaled himself on the broom. "Chuck!"

Shaw debated moving him, but decided against it. Fortunately the lobby was empty, but the cameras had recorded everything. Even so, speed was essential, or Agent Carmichael would eat him alive. He got out his phone, speed-dialed her number. "Agent Carmichael. Chuck's collapsed."

* * *

Casey flinched when Sarah shouted, "Did I or did I not tell you to keep your distance, Mr. Shaw?" She slashed the air, not that Shaw would be able to see it. "Do not try to explain anything to me right now. Do you have Agent Miller's number on your phone? Good. Call it, give her your location, and tell her Chuck is down and disabled. She'll take it from there. I am on my way." She turned back to Casey, who wasn't even trying not to listen. "We're done here. Chuck's figured it out."

Casey started packing up their gear. "How could he do that, he wasn't even listening in last night." He checked his watch. "Is he even uploaded yet? I thought you just said he was talking to Shaw."

"He was."

"I don't understand."

"That's why we're done here. I need to get to Shaw, and you need to get to Dimples."

* * *

Her phone rang as she drove. "Ellie? Talk to me."

"Chuck's all right. He did what I expected him to do, pass out when he tried to use the skills. I have him resting for a little while but he should be good to go after that."

Using the skills wasn't necessarily bad news, lots of them would make him collapse like that. But not in the lobby at Spook Central. "Does he remember what skill he was trying to use, or why?"

"No, he lost some time, like before."

"Dammit." He must've felt threatened, he knew better than to use them on purpose. It had to be a reflex. "Shaw was there, I'll get the details from him."

"Shaw again? What is it with that guy?"

"I'm going to find out."

* * *

Daniel Shaw was not a fool. When Sarah stalked up to his desk he was waiting there for her. He had a small package on his desk. "This was delivered a short while ago. Addressed to you but delivered to me."

She took the box and ripped it open, removed a small flash drive from the shredded remains.

"I put a hold on the Quiet Room, figured we'd need it."

She was the Ice Queen, but he seemed curiously immune to her coldest expression. "You figured correctly."

Once in the room, she brought up the computer, plugging in the flash drive. As they watched, a brief scene played itself out several times over, from different points of view. In all of them Shaw and Chuck stopped near each other, exchanged a few words, and Chuck collapsed after Shaw took a single step nearer.

"What did you say?" said Sarah after all the playbacks had finished. She pulled the drive and pocketed it.

"I often meet him in the hall, and I say hello," said Shaw calmly. "Today I asked him how he was doing, and he expressed some concern that you were not on site."

"He shouldn't have done that."

"I admit I was surprised. I assumed that he had for some reason decided to trust me."

"No, he had a different reason. What else?"

"I told him where you were, and why."

"That's all? Then he collapsed?"

"No," said Shaw. "He got a very strange look on his face, spoke with a totally different voice, and offered an explanation for last night's action that none of us had yet come up with. I was…shocked, and asked him to repeat himself."

Sarah said, in a 'Good Boy Chuck' tone of voice, "I didn't say anything, Agent Shaw."

"You know about it, then." Shaw shrugged. "That was when I took that one step. I thought he was going to attack, as he did before, but instead…" He waved at the monitor.

"He only attacked you, Mr. Shaw, because you threatened my husband's interests. On his own Chuck is more harmless than a bunny rabbit."

"I see that."

Sarah sat and studied him, drumming her fingers slightly. "What was his explanation?"

"Why the interest?" said Shaw in response. "He's only a janitor. I'm hardly likely to file a report about such a contact, unless I had a reason to take it seriously."

_Don't play games with me! _"You know you do."

"No, I know I have reason to take _you_ seriously, especially since you can acquire security-camera recordings at a moment's notice. I have only your word for Chuck, and I want more."

"You seem more than a little…preoccupied with my guy, Agent Shaw."

Shaw did not respond, at least not in words. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small envelope from the pocket nearest his heart. He opened the flap and poured two rings out onto the table between them.

Sarah looked at them, then at his own hand, the ring finger.

Shaw nodded. "My wife, Eve Shaw. We were investigating the Ring together in Paris five years ago, when she was killed while undercover, on a street corner. I haven't worn this ring since."

She raised a brow, silently asking the obvious question.

"DEA retrieved a small case from an arms dealer some months ago. Inside it was a lockbox containing her files, and these rings. You brought me the key."

She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry about your wife, Mr. Shaw."

He scooped up his treasures and put them back where they belonged. "Your _guy_ said the exact same thing to me several days ago, Mrs. Carmichael, in that same lobby. Why would he do that? I need to know."

_Oh, Chuck. What have you done? _Sarah put a sad smile on her face. "You and my husband have a lot in common, Agent Shaw. You both married spies, you both had enemies. My husband's enemies were going to drop my body at his feet."

"Where was this?"

"Does it matter? What matters is that I ended up in a shopping plaza, where there was a Buy More. I broke in, hoping at least to lose them, or maybe do some damage. I hadn't planned on one of the employees working late."

"Chuck?" Something didn't add up. Buy More employees don't work late. They barely work at all.

"He was the Nerd Herd supervisor. Almost a Stanford graduate, too, if you can believe that."

He couldn't. "At a Buy More?"

"Yes, fortunately for me. That was Chuck. _Was_ Chuck. A genuinely nice, friendly, helpful guy. My good boy." She looked down. "I think he fell in love with me at first sight. A hopeless romantic, and terribly naïve. I don't know, a couple of years younger and single, I might have fallen for him." She sat forward, suddenly, intensely. "He made _throwing stars_ for me, out of CDs and a waffle iron! Cleverer by half than anyone I've ever met, and more heroic by at least two thirds."

Shaw made a show of wincing. "That's bad math."

She sagged back. "It got us to the roof. All we had up there was my gun. I got…almost all of them."

"How many left?"

"Just one. Managed to kick my gun out of my hand, then made sure I wouldn't be crawling after it anytime soon. Chuck caught my gun but the guy took one look at him and knew he'd never used one and never would. He turned his back on Chuck and dragged me over to the edge of the roof, said he would leave me as a gift to my husband. I hoped Chuck would take the opportunity to run away."

Shaw noticed the past tense. "Did he shoot?"

She nodded. "A warning shot."

He shook his head. "Not smart."

"The guy dumped me on the ledge and laughed. I don't remember what he said, just the derision in his voice, the…contempt. I saw him lift his gun, and I heard the shots."

"Chuck shot him?"

Sarah nodded. "He shot someone. For me. And he kept the man from dragging me over the edge with him. Bastard fell at my husband's feet, but too late to save Chuck. He's been a bit lost ever since. We take care of him, until he finds his way back. That's the Chuck you saw."

"He's impressive. I'm surprised we didn't recruit him from Stanford, we have a program there."

"There were…circumstances that kept him off the CIA's radar. We looked into it, but decided that off the CIA's radar was the best place for him." Her glare promised death to anyone who tried to change that.

"I understand." _Broken, but an incredibly valuable resource anyway. _And off the CIA's radar is off the Ring's radar as well.

"What was his explanation, Mr. Shaw?"

Shaw repeated Chuck's analysis, word for word, tone for tone.

"We're under surveillance." Worse, they were lab rats, for enemies who wanted them divided and conquerable.

Shaw nodded. "Without a doubt."

Casey spent the night with his guns, she had Chuck. And today Carina 'fired' her.

"What are you thinking?" asked Shaw.

"I'm thinking," she drawled, "That I need a favor. Are you busy?"

* * *

**A/N2 **And in case you're wondering, once again, I have no idea where this is going either. Love to hear your thoughts on the matter.**  
**


	3. The Roller-Coaster

**`A/N **I actually figured out where this story is going! Not in time for this chapter, but still...**  
**

* * *

"_This is Morgan we're talking about here."_

"_Inform Leader we have a contact."_

"_I have only your word for Chuck, and I want more."_

"_We're under surveillance."_

* * *

Morgan had to pee.

It woke him up early in the afternoon, and kept him awake in silent agony a long time, unable to get back to sleep but too comfy in bed to do what he had to do. He leaned over a little and sniffed at the place where Carina had been, but of course the feel of her had gone in every way, even the smell of her hair, and her perfume. Finally he could stand it no more and threw himself out of bed, throwing on some clothes for the walk down the hall to the bathroom, even a shirt for the lady who thought bare chests were bestial. Not in the mood to put up with her disgust today. His phone was showing a missed call, so he put it on speaker as he looked for his shoes, to appease the guy who thought bare feet looked bestial.

* * *

"Inform Leader the contact has been completed."

* * *

Sarah? Needing to talk to him? Why? He knew nothing about yogurt, frozen or otherwise. Then it hit him. It had to be Chuck. Something happened and she needed his expertise in all things Chuck-related. Oh, God. _Now I _really_ have to pee!_

He gave up on the shoes, settled for walking down the hall in a tiptoe, so the guy wouldn't hear him and open the door suddenly. He had ears like a hawk! No one seemed to be around up here, just Mrs. Pendergast in the lobby, registering some new guests for the day. He paused at the top of the stairs, looking around the corner to make sure they couldn't see him, especially her, since he was a quasi-employee. The three guys she was talking to looked tougher than the usual run of her customers, maybe he should stock nails for their breakfast.

Good, no one was looking. He did a quick tiptoe-hobble-march to the other side of the stairs, just before his quasi-employer turned to point out the rooms her new guests would be occupying.

A straight run down the hall and he was home free, well, bathroom free.

With the return of his higher mental functions came a renewed concern for Chuck. Maybe he was sick or injured, and Sarah needed to know his favorite movies or ice cream to give him as he lay on his bed of pain. _Has Sarah even _seen_ Tron?_

Wait a minute! Sarah knows Carina, that's how they'd met in the first place! They were in Hawaii together!

Should he mention this whole 'best friend' business? As Carina's friend wouldn't she want to know? He pulled out his phone, his finger almost, almost on the screen to start the call. No, that's not right. Chuck wouldn't do that. _Maybe I should ask Carina first._ God knows he wouldn't want anyone blaring out news of his own humiliation to all and sundry, he should show her the same consideration.

* * *

"He did what?" General Beckman wasn't as vocal as Ellie, on certain subjects, and this was one of them.

"He explained the Ring's motivations behind Rafe Gruber's presence, with a complete list of its implications. While standing in the lobby, pushing a broom."

Beckman sighed. "Could this get any worse?"

"He said it to Agent Shaw. And apparently forgot he said anything. Again. I had to give Shaw the second origin story."

"How many do you have?" asked Ellie.

"Three, so far. Chuck seems to like coming up with them, although he got kind of in my face about reading them without his permission."

Ellie smiled. "That's my brother, always putting more faith in human trust than computer security. He knows how easily that can be broken."

Sarah narrowed her eyes. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the name 'the Piranha', would it?"

"What do you mean by that, Sarah?" Beckman's voice was hard.

"Excuse me, General?"

"The Piranha was a great hacker, legendary to the other hackers we've caught. He would break into bank systems to move a penny. He broke into NORAD to play tic-tac-toe. He disappeared–"

"When, General?" said Sarah when Beckman trailed off. "When did he disappear?"

Beckman looked thoughtful. "About eight years ago."

"Coincidence?" said Ellie, who disliked generals looking thoughtful, as a rule.

"I think _not!_" responded Sarah, and they started laughing.

Beckman closed her eyes. _Chuck, what have you done?_ "Anything else?"

Agent Bartowski composed herself. "Chuck passed out rather than beat Agent Shaw up again. Shaw was lucky there was no one around at the time, or it would have looked pretty bad for his reputation."

They were all lucky. "Well, that's something good at least, although Agent Shaw's reputation is the least of my concerns. Your doing, Doctor?"

"Yes, General. Until Manoosh and I finish coding his changes into the Intersect proper, I rolled back everything I'd tried to do myself."

Beckman nodded. "Get them done, but we might want to hold off on applying them until we can figure out this latest…wrinkle."

"I concur."

"Agent Bartowski, you mentioned implications?"

Sarah had to hold back a smile, although it didn't take much effort. Even under these bizarre circumstances, the General was still accepting Chuck's analysis at face value. It was too bad she couldn't tell him. "Yes, General. And it especially concerns Carina…"

* * *

"What I want to know is why I had to find this out third hand, Graboid. What happened, cat got your _tongues_?"

Chuck rolled his eyes, safe in his underground bunker. Nothing was less funny than Casey trying to be funny.

"If you can be so loud rolling your eyes, _Eagle-Eye_, how come I had to hear about Stampede from North Star?"

"Because I don't like to talk about people behind their backs, Dirtnap. It's called basic human decency."

"I call it basic human suicide, Graboid. The next time you know that one of my teammates is acting out of character, I'd appreciate knowing about it before I turn my back on them."

Chuck could see where Casey had a point. Well, _half_ a point. "Of course it helps that Stampede's just sooo predictable."

Casey grunted an acknowledgement. "Regardless of your ladyfeelings on the matter, you had to know your little woman would spill the beans. I don't appreciate being late to the party, it makes me feel like the little fat kid. I don't like feeling like the little fat kid, get me?"

* * *

Carina waited until the third ring to answer the phone. "Hey, Martin. Miss me already?"

"Every minute and twice as much when I'm sleeping," said Morgan, feeling very suave, even if his image in the bathroom mirror didn't look very suave. He tried a different pose.

She laughed, and he felt like he looked. "Why?"

Think fast. "'Cause then I miss you in my dreams as well."

She clapped softly into the mike. "Nice save, Martin. I like a man with wit." What was the name of that pretty police officer? He had wit. "So why are you calling me? It's a little early in our relationship for the stalking."

"Says the woman who put her number in my phone," said Morgan with a slight laugh. _She called it a relationship! _"But I wanted to talk to you about Sarah."

"What about her?"

Her voice was flat and angry, but before Morgan could ask her why, a voice in his head said, _"Perimeter set."_

_Huh? _"That's weird."

"What's weird?" she asked, already unhappy with her slip-up, letting her emotions show like that.

"I'm hearing this voice in my head, like that creepy spy lady from Hawaii, only it's a guy this time."

Her voice suddenly got much more intense. "What's it saying?"

"It just said 'perimeter set'."

"Morgan–"

" It's like I'm listening to Call of Duty on radio."

"–get out–"

"_Lockdown commencing."_

"And now it just said, 'lockdown commencing'. Carina? Carina, you there?" He checked his phone, plenty of charge left but no signal. "Great, now she's gonna think I hung up on her."

* * *

Carina was not thinking that Morgan had hung up on her. She wasn't thinking about him at all, except in a _Great, here we go again _sort of way. She started a call in the stairwell and it got picked up when she was in the parking lot. "Casey, you've got company!"

Casey looked up and down the hall he was mopping. "I do?"

Wrong answer. "You and Mrs. Joined-at-the-hip are still at the hotel, right?"

"No, we packed up early, Chuck figured it out."

"Well thanks for telling me! Did Wonder Boy figure that the Ring would be at the B&B again today, with a full assault team?"

Casey abandoned the mop, started moving. "What's your source?"

"I was on the phone with Martin, he heard their chatter in his head."

"The troll's hearing voices in his head and you're taking him seriously?"

"He's a troll with a Ring subdermal implant in his head, and before you get all snotty, remember that your record of getting cuffed to the bed is much higher than his. I'm en route, I was hoping you were AOS but I guess no one is. I just hope he can hold out."

Was that actual _concern_ in her voice? "Morgan? If I were you I'd start feeling sorry for the assault team. I'll get things in motion here and we'll meet up with you at the hotel."

* * *

Morgan turned off his phone's reverse camera-it didn't make him look any better than the mirror, but that could just be the cheap light bulbs-and opened the door to go back to his room.

Three guys with guns were standing outside his door, and as he watched one of them used a booted foot to kick in the cheap door. He winced and closed the door so he wouldn't have to see some jack-booted thug kick a hole in his security deposit.

"_He's not here, sir," _said the voice in his head.A brief pause. _"Bed's still warm, probably just missed him. I see a pair of shoes."_

Where were you when _I_ was looking for those?, thought Morgan.

"_Dispatch a man to check the common areas while you expand your search."_

"_Check."_

Morgan heard nothing about the dispatching of men, presumably it wasn't a chore that needed to be done over the radio. Plus he had bigger fish to fry. "Common rooms? Common rooms? That's the kitchen, and the dining room, and the bathroom." He looked around wildly. "Crap, I'm _in_ the bathroom. Come on, Grimes, think. What would Chuck do? No, no, you gotta aim higher. What would John McCLain do?"

* * *

"What's the emergency, Dirtnap?" asked Chuck, responding to the alert on behalf of the team.

"Your little buddy the troll," said Casey. "Stampede just called it in, there's a Ring strike force busting down doors right now, looking for him."

Fingers flying through a text message, Chuck asked, "So she called _you?_ Doesn't that seem a little out of character?"

"Not if she fired your wife this morning, numb-nuts."

"Just watching your weight there, big guy."

"Watch _this_, Eagle-Eye. Satellite three, if you focus it down real tight."

"Kind'a busy right now, Dirtnap, I'll have to take your word for it. What I meant to say, of course, was how come she didn't just signal us herself?"

"I don't know, Graboid. It might be due to a sense of unrelieved hostility towards certain members of the team, manifesting itself as a set of juvenile behaviors and insults. On the other hand, it could be because we forgot to get her CIA-issued watch back when we were at the hotel this morning."

* * *

The bathroom door slammed inward, followed by a muzzle, but there was no one to shoot, no place to hide. The goon looked up. "I've got a dislodged ceiling tile in the bathroom."

"He may have gone into the attic. Research indicates that there might be a secret passage built into the walls, Carmichael may have gone to access it. Check up there and report."

"Yes, Leader." The goon left, scanning the ceiling for a ladder to the next floor.

Inside the bathroom, scrunched uncomfortably in the vanity under the sink, a man who was just small enough to fit in there, considered what he'd just heard. _A secret passage! How cool is that? _He would have smacked himself upside the head, if he could have moved. _It's an old house in Washington, of course it's gonna have a secret passage. _He shifted, but not enough to do him any good. _Carmichael, eh? Man, I feel sorry for _that_ guy._

* * *

**A/N2 **Don't worry, Shaw's favor is on its way.

Hey, look, it's a comment button! I wonder what it's there for.**  
**


	4. The Hall of Mirrors

**`A/N** I haven't used Morgan much in this series, but he's making up for that in this episode.

"_Could this get any worse?"_

"_Hey, Martin. Miss me already?"_

"_If I were you I'd start feeling sorry for the assault team."_

"_Man, I feel sorry for _that_ guy."_

* * *

Sarah paused in the usual rituals of weapon-prepping. "She was talking to _who_?"

"I know, right?" Casey checked the action on his weapon of choice. "I'm surprised a gnome like Morgan could even put two words together in her presence."

He wasn't _in_ her presence. But then…why were they talking at all? "I wonder what they were talking about."

Casey made a small retching sound. "I don't. The only thing I like less than thinking about her is thinking about him, and thinking about the two of them together involves a mathematics of disgust that only Chuck would understand."

The two of them…"'Together'? You don't suppose it was Morgan that Carina was with last night, do you?" It would certainly explain a few things.

"Hey Carmichael, I'm trying to get my kit together here, no need to make me throw up in it, even a little bit." Casey made a show of shuddering, just to emphasize the point. "But to answer your question, no, I can't imagine Carina stooping to…well I guess she'd have to stoop–"

Sarah slapped him. "I'm warning you, Casey. Do not talk about my husband's best friend that way."

Casey rubbed the spot. "Since when did you become a fan?"

She wasn't, not after that last week, but Chuck was right and it was past time for her to make the effort. "I didn't. But he's my husband's best friend and has been for over twenty years. Maybe you've served longer than that but even you can't doubt his loyalty."

He tapped the side of his head. "Believe me that's not what I was doubting."

"Stow it, Casey." She slid the magazine home with a click. "He knows his tech, he makes Chuck laugh, and makes bacon just the way I like it, what more could I want from him?"

Casey picked up a box of flash-bangs in one hand and some tag rounds-what Chuck liked to call Spider-trackers-in the other. "And what does he do with that tech? He steals video games, while your laughing husband uses it to save the free world."

"Chuck was in that position, Morgan wasn't."

Both boxes went into the bag. "Thank God for that." The _But you better not tell Chuck I said so_ was left unstated.

"Just because his dreams are different from yours doesn't give you the right to sneer at him. Or are you just annoyed by the fact that he _has_ dreams?"

"I had dreams too. I gave them up so people like him could have a chance to fulfill theirs, no matter how idiotic they might be."

"Then don't waste your sacrifice, and allow him to have some. Or I'll hit you again."

He watched her hands. "Save it for the bad guys, Carmichael."

"I will when you save your stupid put-downs for those who deserve them. Moron." She stuck out her tongue at him, and walked away.

He waited until she was gone before he shook his head sadly. _Dammit Chuck, what have you done?_

* * *

The methodical litany of command and response-and the fact that he was still pretty tired-lulled Morgan to sleep even as the search for him grew wider and more desperate. The breaking of that sequence pulled him out of it. _"Unit two. Unit two, respond. Rogue Leader, send a man to check on unit two, west side."_

Rogue Leader's affirmative was lost to a sharp _thwack!_ as something hit the roof outside the bathroom window. He edged the vanity door open to watch the window, as someone climbed in through it from the outside. Only after she'd come in and the light hit her red hair did he recognize her. "Carina?" he said, pushing open the door. She watched as he tried unsuccessfully to untangle himself from the plumbing, before offering him a not-so-gentle hand. "Ow! Thanks. Ah." He stretched out in relief. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm saving you, what does it look like? Whatever these guys want you for they can't have it."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. They're not looking for me, they're looking for some guy named Carmichael."

She sighed. "You're Carmichael. Haven't you ever heard of call-signs?"

"Of course I've heard of – what do you mean _I'm_ Carmichael?"

"Remember Hawaii? Same team, different players. Hold on a second." She stood back, placing her foot behind the door.

The goon coming down the hall opened the door, not all the way, and saw a short guy standing there, hands raised. "Gotcha!" he said triumphantly, and stepped through the doorway.

Something hit him on the back of the head. Morgan grabbed the barrel of his silenced gun and pushed back, hitting him in the nose. A quick grab and shove by Carina and he went out the window to join unit two on the ground below.

"You bet your ass I've heard of call signs!" shouted Morgan in his excitement.

Carina took the gun. "That was awesome, Martin. Two down…"

"And two to go," said a voice from above, through the hole with the pistol sticking through it. There really was a hatch to the attic in the bathroom, who knew? "Rogue Leader, I have Carmich-aagghh!"

Bullets tend to do that.

_Wow!_ "Where'd you learn to shoot like that, Carina?"

"Morgan, quick, haul him down!"

"Is that guy really dead?"

"Of course. If it's him or you, I pick you." Together, they pulled Rogue Three, or maybe it was Four, out of the hole and heaved him after his fellows. Carina put her hands together. "Up you go."

"Can't we just go out the window?"

"It's too late for that." Outside they could hear the bodies being discovered.

Morgan listened as Leader tightened his net. "Great. When you came in here did you have a plan for getting out?"

"Nope, just winging it. You want to get up there?"

"Hey, ladies first!"

"And then how are you getting up? I can at least stand on the toilet."

Grumbling in the face of ineluctable biological reality, Morgan hoisted himself into the attic, and then her.

"Thanks." She looked around, but the only light was from the hole and it wasn't much. "Where's the secret passage?"

"You know about that?"

"It's an old house in Washington, Martin. Of course it's got a secret passage."

* * *

"No answer." She didn't have to say it, they'd both heard the voicemail announcement.

"She turned it off." Casey sighed. "She went in on her own."

No point in denying it. "And they used to call _me_ a wildcard."

"Good thing Chuck's not there or you'd be racing her to the top."

* * *

Morgan looked at the fresh tracks in the dust. "Damn, they've found it already."

"That's great."

"How is that great? What's the point of hiding in a secret room that isn't secret anymore?"

Duh! "Because in the back of their minds they've already found it and checked it. It's the last place they're going to look. You should be safe until this all blows over."

"Me? What about you?"

She had responsibilities. She had secrets. "Martin." She gestured at the small space. "You. Me. Storage closet. How long do you think that hiding place will stay a secret?" She'd twigged to the Bobbsey Twins that first day in Castle.

"But then where will _you_ go?"

_Huh._ Wasn't expecting that. Most men would have followed that line of thought into sex-fantasy-land and she could have shoved them into the closet. She was beginning to appreciate what Sarah'd gone through, except she couldn't even tell Martin it was her job. "I'll just go and surrender. They're looking for you."

"Not once they get a look at you!"

_That's what I'm counting on._ "If these guys were going to be distracted by me I wouldn't have been able to shoot that last one, now would I? Stay in the closet, Martin. I'll be fine."

"_We're down three men, sir, and no closer to finding Carmichael. He's a ghost."_

* * *

Leader considered the problem in his control vehicle. Carmichael had outwitted them at every turn. He'd been fiendishly clever, taking out unit two and then going back inside to wait for the inevitable backup to arrive, so he could take them out as well. Three were acceptable losses, more than that was incompetence.

"Start torturing the others. They'll give him up."

* * *

Sarah's phoned buzzed, and she picked it up and started reading.

"You're checking email now?"

"Hmm. Interesting. It's from Hannah. Remember the museum, how I was hearing the Ring communications? She's figured it out…"

* * *

"We can't let them start torturing people, not even that guy with the feet!"

She almost lost her train of thought with that last comment. "No, you're right. There's only one thing we can do–"

"Exactly. I'll give myself up, and you'll stay safe in the closet."

"And that's not it. Martin, you don't understand, these people are here to kill you."

"No, you don't understand! My last girlfriend let me make a fool of myself, acting all heroic while she did all the work. I'm not gonna let that happen again, even if it kills me. I have to prove myself."

Something went _click!_ somewhere in the dark. "Oh, don't worry, Mr. Carmichael. We believe you."

* * *

"Stoneface, this is Dirtnap, come in."

Shaw lifted the phone. "Who came up with these codenames?"

"You'll have to talk to Graboid about that, Stoneface."

Shaw looked over at the driver, who wasn't bothering to hide his grin. "Am I ever likely to speak with, uh, Graboid?"

"Probably not. Where are you?"

"I'm all done with my Christmas shopping for the missus. How about you?" Two could play at that game.

"Almost there ourselves. We're just gonna go pick up Stampede's watch."

"How about I meet you at the jewelry store?"

"Sounds like a plan. Out."

* * *

Leader turned down the volume on the speaker, refusing to be annoyed. With no time for analysis, the only thing he could get from it was that they had gotten close enough to develop local codes. 'Christmas shopping' might mean the Mall, which was nowhere near him. This much activity, so soon after his incursion, had they caught on to him? Have to assume so. Watches, jewelry stores…'Stoneface' was funny, though.

"_Leader, we've captured Carmichael."_

"Finally." _Who was Stampede?_ "Keep the link open, I want to hear this."

* * *

Carina sat on the floor back to back with Morgan, keeping track of the movements of the guards as the Rogue Leader made a show of stropping his razor. Mrs. Pendergast's eyes were huge just looking at it, and Carina could sympathize. The kind of bloodstains one of those things could leave in her carpet would be a nightmare to clean.

Rogue Leader knelt in front of Morgan. "Anything to say before I begin, Mr. Carmichael?"

Morgan stared at the razor. "Uh, one, yeah, I do have one thing to say." He cleared his throat. "My name's not Carmichael."

"I would expect you to say nothing else, Agent Carmichael." Rogue Leader smiled. "You've really been quite the adversary, hunting you was good sport. Breaking you should be even better."

Suddenly, Morgan smiled. "Go ahead, punk. Make my day."

Rogue Leader smirked. "Oh, I'm not going to make _your_ day, Agent Carmichael. An agent of your caliber would only enjoy the challenge." He reached over Morgan's shoulder and pulled some of Carina's long red hair into his view, fingering it suggestively. "I'm going to make your girlfriend's day."

He stood up and moved around, out of Morgan's sight, ignoring the threats and especially the insults which, to be honest, were either amusing or true.

Carina eyed the razor. "You'd better not be planning to use that on me."

He humored her. "And why would that be?"

"My Facial Technician is very expensive, and very territorial."

"Well, if your boyfriend there isn't a bit more forthcoming, your Facial Technician will have a job for the rest of her life." He held up the razor against her nose.

"Hey! Get that away from me, that's real!"

"Of course it's real."

"I meant my nose, you idiot!"

Rogue Leader sighed. "You know what, Carmichael, if you don't start talking I'm going to let her _live_."

"Don't say a word, Martin."

The boss goon's head came up, and the blade. "Martin?"

"Yes." She was staring at the blade, finally looking scared. "Martin. Martin Carmichael."

* * *

Leader hit the mute button just in time. _"Bloody Hell!"_

* * *

The razor moved away and the wielder moved closer. "Your boyfriend is the famously elusive Charles Carmichael."

"His name is Martin, but you're right about the elusive part." She turned her head away, and elbowed Morgan in the back. "Where _were_ you last Tuesday, Martin?"

"Uh…"

Rogue Leader pulled her head back around. "Your boyfriend is a spy."

"No I'm not," said Morgan.

"No, he isn't." Carina laughed in his face. "I am." Her arms whipped out from behind her back, grabbing the arm with the razor at the end of it while the dangling handcuffs hit him in the face. He flinched, falling back and coincidentally pulling her to her feet. Carina pulled the razor from his hand and flung it up into the ceiling, scarring the wood.

Morgan fell backwards, watching Carina explode into violence upside down. _Come on, dude!_ He tried a trick he'd seen in the movies, slipping his cuffed wrists over his ass and around front…and got stuck. He rolled over…

And cleverly tripped a goon heading for Carina from behind with his face. "Thanks, Martin," she said, and kicked him, dislodging the handcuffs. They slid behind his knees. He'd tried to pull his feet through them…and got stuck. He tried to roll over a second time, but came up against the inert body of Rogue Something-or-other. He flung himself to the other side, just as Carina stepped into the space where he'd been, backing away from the Rogue Leader's second blade. Morgan looked at her face, her eyes, her empty hands. _Do something!_ He pulled harder.

His foot slipped out of the cuffs, shooting ceiling-ward at full strength, catching the Rogue Leader in the crotch and lifting him off the ground.

Even Carina winced.

Morgan rose to his knees, looked at all the fallen men, Carina standing victorious over them all. "Yeah," he said, nodding stupidly to the other dumbstruck hostages. "That's _my_ girlfriend!"

The door flew open. "Police, freeze!"

Carina held up her hands. "It's all right, officers. We're all good here."

The lead man stepped up to them as his fellows took over the room. "We heard a scream."

"That was him." She pointed at the man writhing on the ground.

"What happened to him?" The officer saw a knife, but no blood.

Carina went to Morgan and helped him up by pulling on the cuffs. "He did. My hero!" She kissed his cheek. One of the helmeted troops turned his head away and made a noise.

"And the rest?"

"I had to help him, didn't I? I mean, look at him, he's still cuffed!" She lifted Morgan's hands. "Speaking of which, I don't suppose you could do us a favor…?"

"Sure, let me get those for you." He pulled out his keys.

"Thank you, Officer…?" Carina looked his badge, but the name and even the All-Seeing Eye had been covered over with tape.

"Believe me, Miss Single. It's nothing. Nothing at all."

* * *

The policeman wandered away, and they were left alone.

Morgan rubbed his wrists. "You're a spy?"

"Federal Agent is the term we prefer, Martin, but yes, I'm a spy."

_Wow! My girlfriend's a spy! _He looked up. "Does Sarah know?"

Carina looked at the three 'officers' waiting more-or-less patiently for her to blow this pineapple stand. "Let's just keep this between us for the time being. Why don't you go help Mrs. Pendergast?"

He went one way, she went her own way. "Keep the helmets down," she said when she got close enough. "He doesn't know, don't ask me how."

"We have to get back and report–"

She started fussing with her hair, using the reflection in his visor as a mirror. "Don't wait on my account." She turned as Morgan walked up behind her. "There you are. What do you say we go back to my place for your debriefing?"

He blushed. "Come on, you know I'm a boxers man."

"Yes, I know." She waggled her fingers at the 'officers'. "Toodles."

* * *

Shaw handed her back her card once they were safely under cover. "Your Officer Davis was most helpful."

She took the card. "He's not _my_ officer, but thank you for fetching him. I figured we'd need backup the Ring wasn't watching, but I wasn't expecting all of _that_."

"The 'Dustbin Patrol' was his idea. I didn't know this group even existed."

_Neither did I. _Now she did. Now they _all_ did.

"Oh, and Carina's watch. You said you were going back to the hotel to get it."

"You realize that that was just a convenient code, right?"

"It was?"

* * *

"Arrested?" The vocal distortion covered what might have been amusement or scorn.

"Yes, Leader."

"By who?"

"Unknown at this time. They were processed through the local precinct-as sex offenders-but there is no other paper trail. I had them bailed out. The bodies were recovered."

"Very easily, I'm sure."

"Yes, Leader."

"There will be no coverage of this event, no reports filed. Officially this event never happened." The footage reversed back to the scene of the troops entering the house. An arrow appeared. "That is a woman, disguised as a man, trying to walk like a man."

"Their SWAT forces have no female officers."

"My point exactly." Images of the two women on Shaw's new team appeared, with vital statistics. Estimates of the trooper's size and weight appeared, and the redhead's image was dismissed, the blonde remained. "She is your new target."

The operative had his doubts, but you don't openly express doubts about Leader to Leader. "If you are sure."

"Trust me. I'm sure."

* * *

**A/N2 **I know, it's weird. I suppose I could have ended this some other way but this was fun.


End file.
